


Beyond Our Reach

by Loverman8



Category: Descendants (Disney Movies), The Isle of the Lost Series - Melissa de la Cruz
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Italics, Manipulation, Mind Manipulation, Multi, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:15:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29779491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loverman8/pseuds/Loverman8
Summary: The Isle is dangerous.No one is stealing candies from babies. Where else is the villains’ fury to be directed but their own children?A slightly more realistic take on Descendants.
Relationships: Adam/Belle (Disney), Ben/Carlos de Vil, Ben/Evie/Jay/Mal/Carlos de Vil, Ben/Mal (Disney: Descendants), Evie/Jay/Mal/Carlos de Vil
Kudos: 25





	1. Maybe it was Once Upon a Time

**Author's Note:**

> Heed the tags! This first chapter is tame but this story is DARK. Please be aware before you start reading.
> 
> Enjoy!

The plan was flawed. 

He knew it, his wife knew it, the council knew it... there were a lot of problems with his idea.

True.

But he had to do  _something_ with the villains. They were just... sitting there, half dead and rotting, and still the very air was corrupted by their proximity. They were poison. There was no possibility of redemption. 

There was no way he could take that kind of risk.

His first instinct, as shameful as it was, was to round them up for execution. After all, they could do no damage from beyond the grave. Auradon would be safe at last. His wife seemed to sense his thoughts and sent him a warning glare. He was immediately flooded with shame. 

But could you blame him? He still had nightmares about Gaston on that roof. Still wakes up terrified, filled with adrenaline, convinced he’s one misstep away from the slippery grip of death. He built an alliance on the idea that it was better to work together than stay apart, but he knew the only reason it worked was because everyone was still reeling. Everyone wanted the security of a team. That way, when the next Jafar or Dr. Facilier, or... god forbid, Maleficent, turned up, they wouldn’t be so alone. 

And the island was a solution! A solution that involved no death, no ruthlessness. Honestly, these villains deserved a lot worse than exile. 

On that, everyone agreed.

So, he made the arrangements. Wrote the requisite decrees. Tried not to think about the dungeon he  _promised_ himself he’d never use that was currently at capacity. Thank goodness they were unconscious, at least. 

The goal was to transport them quickly and quietly to an island across the Sea of Serenity. Then, the Fairy Godmother would erect a powerful barrier to prevent them from using magic - it was apparently foolproof. They’d be powerless. 

Some part of him grumbled in satisfaction that they’d be living their worst nightmare. He squashed it. This was not the time to be a beast. 

He had to be a king. 

After the villains were... deposited, for lack of a better word, the Isle would be pretty isolated. He’d arrange for a couple of television channels (only good influences, of course) to be accessible. Auradon would send food and other resources. The rest would be up to them. 

He heard a knock at the door before Belle stepped in. He smiled at her. Her pregnancy had only made her more radiant. She smiled back, but it was clear she was distracted. He couldn’t blame her. 

“Preparations are almost complete. The villains will be relocated soon.” 

“We’re really going through with this, then? There is no other way?”

Adam sighed.

“This is the best option. I need to keep us safe.”

“You do?” Belle lifted an eyebrow and chuckled softly, though it was bereft of humor. “It is our responsibility as rulers to protect our people, Adam. Of course it is. But do not be so foolish as to shoulder the burden alone. It’s irrational.” 

“Of course, my dear.” And he meant it. Really. 

He still had to solve this. 

For all of Auradon. 

—-

Maleficent was transcendent. 

Grimhilde had known this, of course, but it’s one thing to know and another to  _see._

Everyone on this godforsaken island was a villain. Some were more vile than most, but each had been reduced to a mere shadow of their former selves. Gone was magic, luxury and wealth, and with it went the majesty of evil - instead, thy had become lazy, unmotivated slobs. Grimhilde was disgusted and appalled at the state of them. 

The most great and terrible of humankind! Ha! More like most disgusting. Still, evil lurked just beneath the surface. Bubbling and frothing.

It was simply without direction. 

Even so, it was an entirely unimpressive lot. They traipsed into their homes, emerging only to engage in inane activities such as terrorizing each other (honestly, Grimhilde had never understood the appeal. Besides, sneers make wrinkles.) They had lost the spark, the fuel to their fire, and only malice remained. 

She herself was not immune to this depression either. She’d never sink so low as to neglect her awe-inspiring beauty, but her unwillingness to consort with commoners and peasants diminished with each passing day. 

She missed her magic, and suffered for it. They all did. 

Except, perhaps, Maleficent. 

Granted, she rarely emerged from her castle in the early days (and castle was a strong word, it wasn’t  _splendorous_ any longer, didn’t speak to impressive lineage and age-old tradition. The name “bargain castle” was appropriate enough.) 

After a time, though, after the dust had settled and the outrage calmed, she would make a trip down to the bazaar from time to time. To meet with the rabble. 

To remind them of who she was.

Of what she had been.

It was in the market that Grimhilde had met her at last. The rumors followed her like wild mice, the terror, and she’d had to witness the scene for herself. They didn’t even speak to each other. 

Maleficent hadn’t needed to.

As soon as that gaze had found her, Grimhilde felt the weight of 1,000 swords pressing into her sides. She was trapped, utterly powerless, cornered by a predator. Made into prey. 

Her whole world were those two orbs, too green to be anything but fae. They were cold with indifference and disdain - not casual disdain, appropriate when interacting with those below one’s station, but absolute contempt. As though her very life was meaningless.

Gone was the thought of a connection to the greatest evil on the island. She just wanted to  _run_ as fast as she could. She hadn’t realized she stopped breathing until Maleficent had turned away, dismissing her. 

She should have been indignant. To dismiss her! The Evil Queen! Yet all she felt was relief.

The second time she’d met Maleficent was even more disastrous than the first. 

Resent it as she might, she no longer had the ability to gesture towards a servant and be rewarded with the world’s luxuries. She was forced to procure anything she needed herself. As such, she made regular trips to the goblin wharf in order to ensure that she had the best goodies. 

Maleficent, on the other hand, had her goons and henchmen. They were far too terrified of her to say no to anything she’d said - despite the face that she had no magic and could curse them into obedience no longer. Grimhilde turned up her nose at their weakness. 

That day, though, it seemed she had decided to make the trip herself. 

She is standing there, effortlessly commanding the attention of the entire wharf. The dwarfs flock to serve her but she waved them away with a flick of her long pale fingers. They curl around her staff. 

Her eyes are, of course, her most recognizable feature, but the rest of her face is almost as distinctive. Her cheekbones are sharp enough to cut glass, high and symmetrical. Her skin is so pale it looks white. On her head sits two curved horns, each a deep purple color, and the headpiece forms a V on her forehead.

“Maleficent.” Grimhilde said before she could lose her nerve. 

Maleficent turned those eyes on her and she tensed, but relaxed a bit when her lips curled into a small smirk. 

“Ah, yes. The Evil Queen finds a backbone at last.” Her words are little louder than whispers, but the entire wharf stills. “Leave us.” 

People scatter. Even the drunken bums asleep in dark corners rouse themselves to hobble off. Grimhilde would have suspected magic if not for the ever-heavy presence of the barrier. She can actually see it from where she’s standing.

The ensuing silence is heavy, marred only by the the drip of water, and she rushed to fill it.

“An alliance would benefit the both of us, you know.” She almost cringed at her own folly. She had planned to ease into it, establish a rapport, before suggesting an official alliance. It was done now, she supposed. “You and I, we have power, true power. Not like this riff-raff. We could work together and seize our former lives-“ she stops when she hears something. It takes a moment to realize it is quiet laughter. 

Her face doesn’t redden, not with all of the powder foundation she applies, but she narrows her eyes in offense. “You laugh at me? The Evil-“

“That’s enough. Listen well, little queen, because I will only say it once.” Despite herself her mouth snaps shut.

Maleficent steps forward, once, twice, and the Evil Queen would retreat if she weren’t rooted to the spot. 

“You are  _nothing_ here.” Grimhilde moves as if to interrupt but is silenced by a commanding hand. “You compare yourself to me? You dare suggest you have something to offer? You are fortunate to arrange even a single conversation. You are a  failure,  just as you failed to poison a single child, and so consumed by your own vanity that you miss what is obvious.” 

She pauses and grins, showing off sharp white teeth. “Your own worthlessness.” 

She scans the empty pier. 

“If I have need of something, I will take it. Until then, you are dismissed.” She flicks her fingers, just as she did to the dwarf, and as furious as Grimhilde is she is wise enough to heed her words. She turns and stalks off.

Somehow, their third meeting is the worst of all. 

It is years later, and Maleficent is no longer such a recluse. She isn’t  _sociable_ \- she is still spends long days and nights in her castle, alone - but she has become a presence. Almost as much the island as the island itself. Grimhilde may be a Queen but she knows who is truly in charge.

The rejection still burns, and grows only worse with time. 

So, six years later, she  _ misplaces  _ a birthday invitation. Nothing drastic. It isn’t even Maleficent she’s scorning but her daughter (she’s never met her, but knew enough from gossip - she and her mother were two of a kind.) Little Evie, her own gorgeous daughter, might miss her - she was looking forward to meeting the most infamous child on the Isle. Grimhilde does not care.

She’s not expecting such a reaction.

Maleficent descends on her like fire from hell, wild and destructive and terrible. Her eyes glow from fury. Her nails are shaped like claws. She barely knows what is happening before the gates of the Caste-Across-the-Way are slamming shut, trapping her forever.

All she can think is that Maleficent was not without majesty then. Without magic. 

Maleficent  _ is  _ the magic.


	2. Initial Misgivings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carlos knew he should have kept his mouth shut. Tremaine had been so wrong, though, and he just got so mad. Now he had to face the consequences.
> 
> But what was Mal, mini dragon queen of the Isle, doing in Ursula’s restaurant?

Carlos really shouldn’t have said anything.

Of course he should have kept his mouth shut! He should  always keep his mouth shut.  That was the only way to avoid more pain, more punishment, if he was silent sometimes they just lose interest- 

They were certainly interested now.

Oh gods, what had he gotten himself into?

He’d known it was a bad idea the moment he’d stood up, but that Anthony Tremaine was just so  wrong  and he needed to say something or else what was Weird Science 1 even for? He loved the class, loved the mysterious teacher (Yen Sid never sneered when Carlos raised his hand to answer a question or came on time to class, his mouth did that twitchy thing) and he had just gotten so mad.

And then his cousins had come out of  _ nowhere  _ and how had he not heard them? How could he miss a horde of Tremaines coming at him? It wasn’t as if they were quiet at all.

His hearing was excellent.

(His mother had smiled, a real  smile, not a crazed grin, and petted his hair softly when she’d learned. Carlos hadn’t even knows she _could_ smile)

He clutched his missive in shaking hands. Tremaine had gone to a higher-up. He would not stand for being humiliated by the “scrawny runt” in class, and had taken discipline upon himself.

Carlos was to come, alone obviously, to Ursula’s Fish-‘n-Chips after school. Apparently Tremaine was hanging around Harriet Hook’s gang now and Harriet’s brother, Harry Hook, spent a lot of time near Ursula’s daughter—- she’d granted him the use of her mom’s shop.

He’d never met either of them, but he could guess as to what would be happening to him there. 

Nothing good. 

Carlos didn’t understand why the Hooks  cared about what he did! He’d never met any of them. He’d never even gone to the Inlet, not that he’d have any reason to. 

It wasn’t as if he could say no to the summons, though. 

Carlos was scrawny—- not even grunt-level scrawny, but small and short. Petite. He had  some muscle having done most of the chores in Hell-Hall since he could walk (and even some before then) but not nearly enough to mess around with some of the kids on the Isle. He was pretty quick- his lithe frame let him slip through small spaces- but he tended to freeze instead of run so it was useless anyway. He just couldn’t compete.

On the Isle, power meant  everything . People got status from their parents, sure, but they lost it fast if they couldn’t back it up. Bragging without skill just made you look like an idiot (and that was the fastest way to get beat up and tied to a pole in the Goblin Wharf)

The biggest, the baddest, the scariest and most intimidating; they ruled the teens on the Island. 

And everyone knew who was who. 

Power was constantly circulating, especially in the lower levels - people loved to clamor for spots on the hierarchy - but the fastest way to get protection was to make yourself valuable to the baddest kids around. Something Carlos never seemed to be able to do. No, he had to go around pissing off big-time gang kids and getting himself killed. 

  
Damn it.

He never should have said anything.

—

When he’d finally been able to slip away from Hell Hall, it was already dark out. It didn’t take too long for the sun to set on the Isle, but it didn’t too long to get his mother drink enough to pass out either. He’d finish his chores later.

As he walked across the town, trying to find the pirate sector, he kept his eyes out for the many thrives and grunts hanging around. While the more powerful villains retreated to their homes at night, the underground was alive and well, and on an island filled to the brim evil-doers... Carlos didn’t want to get shanked. Or worse.

_ He still remembered that night when he was six, the smell of the alcohol and the leather and the sweat, fingers on his arms and in his hair and in his  mouth , he was **choking** - _

The Isle was mostly silent at that time of night. Aside from the usual grumbling, you could be forgiven for assuming everyone was asleep... until you got to the Pirate Sector.

The pirates were a rowdy bunch.

It was rumored that before the exile, pirates would drink and gamble all night - partying until the sun came up and they had to return to manning the ship. They would dance and listen to music, or play darts with sharp knives. Unlike Maleficent, famously disgusted with merrymaking of any kind, pirates apparently loved to have fun.

The sea-farers were reluctant to give that up, it seemed, as Hook’s Inlet was lit throughout the night. Ursula’s restaurant was always pretty busy too.

The sound of yelling drew him to a run-down (honestly though, everything on the Isle looked like it was seconds from crumbling to pieces) shack. It smelled like fish and rum.

Delightful.

He steeled himself, trying in vain to stop his hands from shaking. He didn’t know if showing submission would make this worse or better at this point, and wasn’t willing to take the chance. When he finally stepped through the batwing doors, he tiptoed. He didn’t want to make a scene.

He shouldn’t have been worried.

In stark contrast to the dreary neighborhood, humid and cold from seawater exposure, the ship was warm and well-lit. A pungent odor - fish, he supposed, and alcohol - made it hard to breathe. It was also dead silent.

What the heck?

Carlos slunk to the background, wondering what everyone was looking at. It couldn’t have been for him, could it? Would everyone here really care that much about some kid from Dragon’s hall?

He breathed in relief when no one noticed him enter. He was curious, though. What could have stopped the entire ship’s worth of patrons in their tracks?

It was then that he noticed. A sight that made his heart speed up, his breathing come quicker and shallower. His palms started to sweat, and his eyes widened.What could _she_ be doing here? 

What had Maleficent’s daughter come for?


	3. Gone Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maleficent Bertha wasn’t unreasonable. Really, she wasn’t. So why could she feel cracking at the edges?

Mal Bertha (gods, how she hated that name) wasn’t an unreasonable girl. 

Yes, she demanded absolute fear and loyalty. Yes, she enjoyed messing with the weaker kinds populating the island. Yes, she was deceitful, prideful, and selfish. Of course she was. 

But she was mostly fair, and never demanded the impossible. Respect? Fear? Utterly appropriate. It would be wrong to behave any other way.

So, when she’d heard from one of her little messengers that Uma had gone rogue, she’d seen red for a moment.

How dare she betray her? Her, who’d elevated the daughter of a weakened villain to a life of high status? Her, who’d nurtured the girl’s dreams and taken such good care of her? The nerve!

Her rage had lasted for only a second, though, before logic had returned. Perhaps Uma had cooked up a new scheme and simply neglected to inform her. It wouldn’t be the first time the girl had taken it upon herself to plot when things got slow.

She smirked, delighting in the way her spy paled, and indicated that she should move closer. She did so with some trepidation.

“You have done well to inform me of this. Your are dismissed. Do not,” and here her smirk faded, to be replaced with a blank expression, “act on my behalf.”

Nodding frantically, the girl scampered off to wherever she’d come from. Mal lounged on her throne, looking deceptively relaxed.

“You seem much less...  _enraged_ than I would have expected.”

Mal turned slightly. She conceded the point with a wave of her fingers.

“I’m sure the little birdie merely misunderstood something. After all, the schemes of the cunning are often beyond the reach of mere henchmen.” Mal waited for a moment before breaking out into a large grin. “In all seriousness, Jay, I think she’s confused. Uma would not be so stupid as to rebel. Not after everything.”

It seemed that Jay of Agrabah, son of Jafar, wasn’t impressed with her logic. She knew that he had always been suspicious of Uma, often accusing her of this or that, and suspected he might be jealous of her relationship with the blue-haired pirate. Not that he’d ever say anything. She’d have to tear the sentiment from his cold, dying lips.

He stepped out of the shadows, obviously wary of her good mood. He didn’t have to worry; she wasn’t mad. No, not at all.

The wooden armrests of her throne splintered between her fingers.

“As long as you’re sure.”

She gave him a flat look. Did he think she was an idiot?

“Of course I’m going to investigate myself. You think I’m going to trust her blindly?”

“No. Not blindly. But you might not accept the truth until it smacks you in the face.” Jay answered, raising a singular brow. 

She stared, her face completely blank, before relaxing and folding her arms over her lap.

“I have faith in Uma, granted.” Mal smiled, a wide grin reaching up to her eye. They  _sparkled_. “But if I discover that she has betrayed us? Me?”

“Nothing could save her.”

—-

Uma hadn’t really thought it would get this far, if she was honest.

When she’d broached the topic of..  _rebellion_ to her crew, she was sure she’d be shot down immediately. After all, who was crazy enough to go against Mal? The daughter of Maleficent? Was she insane?

But they were on an island of villains, and she probably should have known they’d jump at any chance at power. Any chance to get out from under someone else’s thumb. They knew she didn’t want to be a dictator, a ruler— just a captain, and as pirates, it was the best deal they could cut.

If she pulled it off.

“Mal can’t be everywhere.”

“Yes, lass, she can. She  _is_.”

She glared at Harriet Hook, a regular customer at her mom’s restaurant. Harriet was a bit older than Uma and had showed her the ropes when she’d first come to SPEM - she made sure she didn’t make a fool out of herself that first day. She’d been terrified at first, her mother filling her head with stories of ruthless and disgusting pirates, but when Harriet had turned out ok… she’d opened her mind to pirates. 

“To tell ya the truth, I’d be a bit shocked if she didn’t know already! I’m worried for ya, dearie.” Harriet was mostly active, carefree and jovial, but now her face stilled and she stopped fidgeting. “The girl is mad, yeh hear? Mad. Just like that mother o’ hers. If she find out yer fixin’ to scorn ‘er, she’ll ‘ave your hide.” 

“I can deal with her!” Uma yelled, offended. She flushed when Harriet only raised her eyebrows. 

“I’m not tryin’ to offend you. I’m tryin’ to  _warn_ you.”

In response, she only scowled. Maybe Harriet was only looking out for her to avoid pissing off her mother (not that her mother would even care what happened to her, honestly, Uma wasn’t sure why Harriet bothered) but she’d implied that she was weak. That was as good as any insult on the Isle. Hell, it was worse, and if they’d had company, Uma would have been in serious trouble. 

The fact that Harriet went so far as to actually say it? It made her more nervous than anything else so far.

Mal didn’t rule the island. She was barely a teenager, obviously she didn’t have authority over  _real_ villains. She only had any power at all, actually, because the adults on the Isle didn’t really care about what their kids got up to as long as they did as told. Or didn’t, but didn’t get caught. And the gangs didn’t really have pull anyway! It was almost like kids playing pretend.

If Jafar or Hook or Ursula actually gave a shit, they could shut her down pretty easily. 

Maybe it was different for the kids at Dragon Hall, because Mal was there every day, but over at SPEM? Mal was a rumor. A boogeyman, to threaten the runts with. “Do my homework, or I’ll get Mal to deal with you.” “Shut up or Mal will be pissed.” It was Uma that made the decisions, that corralled the brats and intimidated the older kids. Uma was in charge over here.

Having to answer to Mal? Mal, who didn’t even live here, who didn’t know these kids, who didn’t  give a _shit_ probably about  _anyone_ ? It sucked. It sucked enough that she wanted to do something about it.

But what could she do? Mal might not have had her mother’s magic, but she certainly had her affinity for control. She practically owned the island, owned the children and the food and the rest of it. She had the best thieves and the fastest runners, even the freakin’ goblins down at the wharf catered to her, she was mean and terrifying and dangerous and when she looked at you with those eyes it was like you couldn’t breathe-

Yeah. Anyway.

There was also the unfortunate reality that she owned... her.

Much as it galled her to admit it, Uma had been a small-time hoodlum before meeting Maleficent’s intimidating daughter. It was only after she had proven herself in an altercation (she’d lost, as always) that she was taken in under her protection. She still didn’t know what Mal had seen in her.

It had changed her life anyway.

Suddenly, she didn’t have to fight for every scrap of food she ate. She didn’t have to check over her shoulder, all the time, and she wasn’t in the same kind of danger if she did get in a fight. She had backup— she had  _allies_ .And now she’d be throwing it all away.

But she had to shoot her shot, had to break free before she became nothing more than someone’s minion.

There were no friends on the Isle of the Lost.

Scoffing quietly, she pushed past Harriet to run behind the bar. Grabbing whatever she saw first - gin - she poured some in a glass and shoved it towards the pirate. Harriet caught it in a rusted hook. 

Uma poured one for herself. Before she could knock it back, though, the batwing doors of the store burst open. The pint-sized pirate that rushed through was pale and sweaty, though she couldn’t tell if it was from fear or running across the island. Faintly, she heard Harriet mutter “Finally.” She wasn’t paying attention.

“Well? What happened? How did it go?”

“It  _went_ fine. For the record I still think this is crazy-“

“Forget what you think,” Uma snapped, a bit frustrated that the girl refused to answer her question. “What did… what did Mal say?”

Now that she was closer, she could see the mild signs of adrenaline racing through the spy. Her hands were shaky and her pupils were dilated. That was a good sign, right? The fact that she was here meant that she probably wasn’t caught, but if Mal knew somehow and just wanted her to  _think_ she didn’t… No. That was a rabbit hole she couldn’t afford to go down.

“She didn’t tell  _me_ anything, obviously, but I think she bought it. She told Jafar’s son she’d come investigate.”

“Jay was there?” Damn it, that was bad, he didn’t like her at all for some reason-

“I swear to god I’ll teach that little shit a lesson!” Uma’s head snapped up just in time to see Anthony Tremaine stalk in her restaurant, Sam Hiss nipping at his heels. She restrained a groan. What did he want that he had to bother her right now??

CJ had taken some kind of interest in him, which meant he was hanging around the Inlet lately— he’d become a bit of a regular customer. Unfortunately, he kind of treated her like a servant, and she didn’t want to go whining about it so she’d kind of had to just take it. Her mom would be  _furious_ if she found out Uma chased off a paying customer, after all.

“Hey! Quit banging up the place!”

“Oh, shut up. The place is falling apart anyway.” He then proceeded to completely ignore her. Ugh.

“See!” She whisper-hissed at Harriet, and then stomped over. Maybe it would work better if she yelled in his face.

“Listen, you little shit-“

“I’m bigger than you, fish-face!” Tremaine spits back, obviously incensed. 

“Fish-face? That’s the best you can do? Maybe I should go tell my mother what you’re saying about her shop, hmm? Maybe then you could call  _her_ fish-face and see how it goes!”

That was apparently enough to quiet the brat, because he paled a little and looked away.

Uma sighed. This wasn’t going to go away until she dealt with it, but she just didn’t have the time right now... “You know what, I’ll make a deal. You can use the shop for whatever it is you want to do. One night  **only** ,” she barked, in case he got any ideas, “and keep it quiet. One favor in exchange.”

It wasn’t really a good enough deal, but she was too wired to actually think about it. Honestly, she just wanted him off her back without having to resort to more desperate measures— possibly ones involving a rusty anchor. And his face.

Her head hurt. 

“I don’t need the whole place. Just the back.” Tremaine makes an obvious bid for a lesser cost, but it’s futile and he knows it. Her lips curl into a smirk. He flinches and kicks at the floor.

She gets stuck there for a moment, just staring at him like some sort of idiot. He looks so  _young_ . So small, shifty but somehow not in a pathetic way, so much like a kid that it breaks the illusion of stone for a moment. But just a moment. And then it’s gone as quickly as it came. 

It’s always gone too quickly.

Back and gone again.

**Author's Note:**

> Again, mind the tags. This story heavily features rape and non-con elements, as well as murder. Hopefully very little gore. My goal is to write a more realistic, and therefore gritty, version of the events of Descendants. That will involve emotional and psychological manipulation.
> 
> You have been warned.


End file.
